Felldoh's Victory
by Lord of Warriors
Summary: What would have happened if Felldoh killed Badrang instead of Martin the Warrior. What? No fame for Martin? Yes. So all you Felldoh lovers check this fan-fic out!
1. Chapter 1: A Duel

_Dear Reader,_

_You may recognize a lot in this story; I wouldn't blame you. This story is about Felldoh, and how he killed the Badrang. Yes, I know that in the book Felldoh died trying. But this is my version of what could have been if Felldoh did kill the Tyrant. This first whole chapter is an exact writing from _Martin the Warrior_: pages 318 (paragraphs 8 & 9) through pages 324. Thank you for joining me on this exciting adventure. _

_Enjoy!_

—_Lord of Warriors_

Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything in this story. It has all been claimed (rightfully) by Brain Jacques: author of the Redwall series.

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Chapter 1: A Duel

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Boggs stood atop the battlements, peering southward. He leaped down and ran to make his report. "One beast commin' along the cliffs in this direction Lord!"

Bad rang was slightly taken aback. "Only one?"

"Aye, just a loner, still a fair way off, but I spotted 'im."

The Tyrant pulled the closest archers to him. "Rotnose, Wetpaw, get down there as quick as you can. Tell Crosstooth to hide with the others. You two do the same. When I shout the word Marshank aloud, break cover and capture this one. Hurry now. Tell everybeast to be totally silent. If he sniffs a trap he'll be off!"

Once the two messengers had departed, Badrang turned to his two archers. "Down, all of you. Be quiet and keep your heads low. Remember the word is Marshank. You, Wulpp, go and shut the front gates."

—§·§·§—

As Felldoh trotted along the cliffs to the shore, he hardly noticed the unusual silence that hung over the fortress. Had he been more vigilant he might have noticed the telltale signs that foe were laying in concealment on the beach. But the squirrel's vengeful eyes were riveted on one thing, Badrang, standing out bold and alone on the walltop over the gates. Felldoh's paws gripped the javelins like vices and his teeth made a grinding noise as his jaw muscles bulged, the breath hissing fiercely from both nostrils. Now he broke into a run, his paws pounding rock and dry sand as he sped along, oblivious to all else but the figure of his most hated enemy.

—§·§·§—

At the edge of the cliffs, Brome threw himself flat with Keyla and Tullgrew either side of him. "Is he mad? Look at him!"

They watched the javelin-carrying squirrel skid to a halt within earshot of Badrang.

Tullgrew bit her clenched paw. "He's going to be killed, I can feel it in my bones. Surely they wouldn't let a lone escaped slave run up to the place like that in broad daylight?"

Keyla watched in horrified fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. "You're right, I'll bet my rudder he's walking into some sort of trap. Maybe we can shout a warning."

Brome was doubtful. "I think we're too far away, but let's give it a try. Shout his name. One, two, three. Shout!"

"Felldooooooooooh!" The three voices rang out as one.

Tullgrew struck the cliff top with her clenched paw. "I don't think he heard us, or even if he did, he isn't paying any heed to us. What in the name of thunder is he doing down there?"

Keyla shook his head. "I don't know, but something awful is going to happen, I'd take my oath on that. I think one of us should go back to camp and bring help quickly."

"I'll go!" Brome cast off his healing bag and began wriggling backwards.

Keyla went into a low crouch, dashing past Brome. "You stay here, mate. I'm the best runner in these parts!" Leaping upright, he took off with dust spurting from his heels.

—§·§·§—

Wordlessly Felldoh dropped his bundles of javelins. Taking the throwing stick, he fitted one along it. Bending his whole body back, he sighted along the shaft and hurled it with tremendous force at Badrang.

The Tyrant was a fair distance away. He saw the javelin launched and leapt to one side, watching it as it sped harmlessly by. Leaning on the wall, he called out scornfully, "Try another one, squirrel!"

Felldoh did, but this time with a short run and skip to give his javelin impetus. Badrang had dropped below the wall as the missile was thrown. He heard the thin whistle of wind as it passed overhead. Smiling, he stood up and shouted at the squirrel, who was just about within earshot, "Best you can do, slave?"

"I'm not a slave of yours," Felldoh's voice roared back at him. "My name is Felldoh and I've come here to kill you, Badrang!"

Another javelin came hurtling through the air. This time Badrang jumped back to his former position, shrugging expressively as the pointed wood sailed off towards the back wall of the fortress. "Tut tut, missed again. You'll run out of those things soon."

Quivering with rage, Felldoh held up a javelin in both paws. He broke it as if it were a straw. "I could break you like that if you weren't such a mad-sucking coward. Come down and fight me, paw to paw, beast to beast!"

Badrang swept his paws wide. "No doubt you have laid a trap for me. Those cliffs will be swarming with your friends, ready to leap up and come running to attack at your signal, the same group you had with you last night, treacherously slaying my creatures in the darkness. Do you take me for a fool?"

Felldoh moved closer to the fortress, as Badrang hoped he would. Throwing caution to the winds as his temper got the better of him, the squirrel curled his lip contemptuously.

"You are both a fool and a coward! Last night there was only me out here. I am as you see me now, without any army or horde and without a fortress wall to hide behind like you have. So come out and fight. Poltroon, craven cur! Dithering idiot!"  
Suddenly the positions were reversed. Badrang could here his archers below the wall sniggering. Stung by Felldoh's insults, the Tyrant drew his sword.

"No body uses words like that to me. I am Lord Badrang. Get ready to die, squirrel. I am coming down!"

Even in his rage the Tyrant was still playing the odds. Armed with a sword, he was sure he could defeat the squirrel who had only some short wooden stakes to defend himself with. As a last resort, he could always call in his soldiers; they had his adversary surrounded. As Badrang pushed past the grinning archers, he swore silently to himself that he would slay the bold squirrel, wiping away any doubts in the minds of his horde that he, Badrang was a leader to be feared and respected.

—§·§·§—

Brome gasped in amazement as the fortress gates swung open and Badrang walked out to face Felldoh.

Tullgrew shook her head. "I don't believe it. What ever Felldoh's been saying must have stung Badrang into action. Look, they're going to fight!"

Brome stared at the lone figure, and all his hostility to Felldoh evaporated. He remembered the squirrel's words; that he would die if it was necessary to bring down Badrang and Marshank. The young mouse found himself wishing he possessed the bravery to be a warrior and help his friend by standing alongside him.

—§·§·§—

Badrang leaped at Felldoh, cleaving only empty air with his sword as his adversary skipped back nimbly. Gripping the sword in tight both paws, the stoat rushed in swinging wildly, hoping to overwhelm his foe with the ferocity of the attack. Felldoh was like a stinging hornet. He weaved under the flailing blade, jabbing at the Tyrant's face with his javelin as he flashed by. Badrang turned, drawing he breath sharply as he felt blood trickle from a small wound on his jaw. Balanced lightly on his footpaws, Felldoh grinned insolently, threw himself into a swift roll and whacked his adversary hard on the shin with the wooden shaft. Badrang yelped with pain, spinning fast and chopping down with his sword. He chopped only sand, arching his back as the wicked javelin point raked a long scratch on it. Breathing heavily, he held the sword point forward and low, shuffling slowly toward the squirrel, watching for a sudden move. Felldoh stood his ground, eyeing the sword carefully as it rose fractionally, guessing the exact moment Badrang would choose to thrust. The stoat lunged! Felldoh skipped sideways, bring the javelin down with numbing force on his opponent's left paw. Tears sprang unbidden to the stoat's eyes as he held on to the sword with his right paw, the left stinging and throbbing as it hung limp at his side. Felldoh was still smiling, adding insult to injury. Badrang feigned helplessness for a moment, trying to move his deadened paw. Suddenly he dropped flat, rolled over and swung out wildly. Felldoh was taken by surprise. The blade cut deep into his footpaw. Badrang moved in for the kill, swinging the sword in his good paw. The butt end of the javelin struck him hard in the stomach, knocking his breath out in a sharp gasp. He doubled over, fighting for air.

_Thwack!_

The wooden haft struck the sword into the air. It curved in a shining arc, landing point down in the sand as Badrang's right paw fell numbly to his side. Holding the javelin in both paws like a quarterstave, Felldoh knocked his enemy flat on the shore. Ignoring his injured footpaw, the squirrel raised the javelin. He brought it down with punishing force.

—§·§·§—

Tullgrew clapped a paw across her eyes. "Has he killed him? I can't look. Is Badrang slain?"

Brome shook his head in astonishment. "No, Felldoh is beating him with the javelin as if it were a rod!"

Tullgrew uncovered her eyes, smiling with a grim satisfaction. "Aye, just as he used to have slaves beaten. Lay it on him, Felldoh!"

—§·§·§—

Badrang tried to curl up into a ball, yelping as he rolled about in the ground. The javelin rose and fell across his back, each stroke punctuated by Felldoh's harsh shouts. "How does it feel to be beaten like a slave, O mighty one? Feel this! And this! You had me beaten when I was a little more then an infant! My father was beaten with the rod because he was old and slow! You never mad me cry out! Why are you wailing! Can't you take your own medicine?"

Tullgrew covered her eyes again, but Brome watched in horrified fascination. "He's going to beat Badrang to death, I can hear him yelling from here!"

But the Tyrant was not crying our needlessly.

"Marshank! Marshank! Marshank!"

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_It's sad but, listen to this. After this chapter, you'll see a major difference in writing. And that's how u can tell if I wrote it or Brian Jacques. _


	2. Chapter 2: Reacquainted

_Remember that anything you find in this story that is also written in Martin the Warrior belongs to Brain Jacques. Along with everything else. _

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Chapter 2: Reacquainted

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Felldoh suddenly realized the awful trick. Quicker then anyone could remember, he flipped the javelin so the point was down. Then, raising it above his head, he stabbed down while yelling at the top of his voice, "Fur and Freedooooooooooooooom!"

So great was his force that the javelin not only ran right through the Tyrant, but it pinned him to that very shore. Every horde beast stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of their leader with a javelin protruding through his middle.

"Common, lets go." Brome grabbed Tullgrew's paw and together they ran down to meet Felldoh.

Wearily the squirrel eased down on the shore and massaged his wounded footpaw.

"Felldoh! Felldoh! I'm here!" Brome ran up and hugged the squirrelwarrior.

"Hello, Brome! Good to see a fair face in this crowd." The squirrel indicated the dull and witless, ugly vermin.

"Oh, that must hurt! Let me bandage that up."

"I guess I was wrong, I apologize for not having faith in you, Felldoh." Tullgrew sat down beside them as Brome selected herbs from his healing bag and applied them to Felldoh's footpaw.

"This might sting a little, Felldoh." Brome pressed some moss across the wound along with dock leaves. Then taking a bandage began to wrap it up.

Felldoh talked to Tullgrew to get his mind off the throbbing pain in his paw. "Apologize? For what?"

"I said you were going to die, because we sensed a trap."

"Aw that okay. I'm still here aren't I? He was the unlucky one." He pointed at Badrang's carcass. "But he deserved it ten times over."

Brome and Tullgrew nodded in agreement.

—§·§·§—

Felldoh was right: a horde with out its leader is like a snake without its head. The horde stood looking at the three beast happily chatting on the beach while trying to think of what to do next.

"Waddowe do now?" A stoat asked.

"I dunno, ask 'im." The ferret next to him pointed at the rat by him.

"Not me, 'er!" He jabbed a paw at the female rat next to him.

"Where's Crosstooth? Ain't 'e in charge?" She looked around.

Crosstooth was inching back toward the fortress gates. "Everyone back inside! I see somthin' commin'!

All the beasts scrambled inside and shut the gates as the cart with Ballaw and Keyla on top and the rest of Fur and Freedom Fighters running behind. Rowanoak pulled the cart. The cart creaked and groaned as it was halted abruptly in front of the grinning and smiling trio.

"Good show, wot?" Ballaw said as he jump/tumbled down from the still swaying cart.

"I'm so happy to see you alive and well!" Rowanoak grabbed Felldoh in a bear hug that left him gasping for breath once she put him down.

Keyla gave him a hefty slap on the back and congratulated him. "Way to go, mate. You rid the land of the foulest stench."

Felldoh managed a meek smile. "Not so when you beat up the hero."

"Let us rid the stench's gasses." Rownoak waved a dramatic paw in the direction of the fortress Marshank.

"Then we can celebrate with a feast?" Ballaw added hopefully.

Roars of laughter followed the hare's remark.

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_Two more chapters, maybe three. Then this short story is over._


End file.
